Family Patterns

For my very famous monthly Queen Anne/Magnolia NEWS column “From the Bluff” I am focusing on a new, local shop called Fabric Crush. What is more seductive than fabric? It is a perfect love story between beauty and utility, form and function. I could write about the joint in standard, informative article form but…I want to get more personal and so will hybrid the deal and write an informative column. Rather like the hybrid fabrics of unique weight that Fabric Crush carries that can be used for both upholstery, clothing and bags.

My mother taught me to use her Singer treadle sewing machine when I was five years old. My mother also made most of my clothes. She made really crazy stuff for being so conservative in most other ways! For instance I remember a couple of jumpers. One was of shiny, navy blue vinyl with matching, drawstring purse. She used marigold colored thread atop the navy and I wore this ensemble atop a marigold colored blouse and matching knee highs. Another jumper was out of faux lamb wool, tight curls of gray synthetic ‘hair’ all over the jumper. She also bought me a white denim outfit — jeans with matching jacket — where the fabric was printed to look like colorful paint spatters. I was so beautiful! Also, she bought Barbara and I matching bell bottom jeans that were of psychedelic colors and patterns, like something out of the Beatles’ Magical Mystery Tour.

The funny part is that as I got older my mother was always shocked at my outfits such as the motorcycle jackets and high tops I wore to weddings, or the daily vintage 1940’s suits and velveteen dresses. I remember sewing pants that had different colored legs. At age 18 I made a leopard skin jumpsuit before faux leopard skin was IN (I got the most nasty hangover in that outfit; I had made it to wear to my friend Keith’s 21st birthday in Portland and I drank so many different genres of alcohol that I could not lift my head from the pillow the next day due to the crush and spin).

My outfits were at one time bizarre enough to get honked at by passing cars. I never owned a car until I got married in my mid-thirties so I walked all over town back then (and later bicycled). But I am just saying, there was a time in Seattle when odd outfits were not as ready-made and available in the stores.

Anyway, I always thought it ironic that my mother got upset at my clothing choices during my ‘teens and twenties (back when I cared enough to take time to look…something) when she is the one that started it.  

Now I am ashamed by how my mother is dressed (the ironies just pile up, don’t they?). She needs new pants desperately yet have I gone out to buy them? I hate shopping for my self let alone someone else. But I must. I can’t buy her pants online either because I need to measure waists since a Gloria Vanderbilt (isn’t that Anderson Cooper’s mother?) size 6 is the SAME as a Liz Sport 8.

What is a caregiver to do!?

Above is a sketch I made (and dolled up in Photoshop) with measurements of mom’s pants that I can take to the store. I mean, my poor mother is wearing torn, burgundy stained jeans…and it is too much for her at this point to actually take her and make her to try stuff on in the little waiting rooms.

God, please help me to be willing to shop so that my mother doesn’t resemble Oliver Twist!